Broken Hearts and Last Goodbyes
by howlsatthemoon
Summary: It's pouring rain outside and it paints a drumbeat in the background, steady and melancholy. Perfect for such a goodbye kind of mood. / Because we know that nothing lasts. Shane/Mitchie.


_Disclaimer: I do not own CR. Duhhr. _

Okay this is major bitter and slightly dark. Hope you like it. ;]

**-~-**

It was 11 o'clock at night and the streets were soaking wet. She was clad in nothing but a pair of old, frayed Bermuda shorts and a light blue tank top that was already drenched but she did not want to go back in to change into something more decent for an event like this. Besides, she didn't think there was an outfit for breaking up. Rain poured until her hair was nearly black and her mascara was running down her cheeks. She didn't care – the drops were disguising her tears.

She dragged an enormous suitcase across the front steps of the house with difficulty. She slips and slides but manages to stay upright. By the time she is at the curb, ready to hop into her used car, the suitcase is stained with mud and rain and her ankle is twisted. Her luggage is halfway unzipped and something has fallen out on her way down the steps. It is a small yellow notebook, obviously homemade. On the front, neatly written out, it says, "_MITCHIE'S SONGS _– DO NOT OPEN IF YOU ARE NOT MITCHIE TORRES".

He comes out, tears making their way slowly down his tanned cheeks. He runs out to the steps and picks up the songbook, hugging it to his chest. His outfit is more unusual – he is wearing plaid boxers and an ancient Rolling Stones t-shirt. His hair is messy and now drenched, but he still looks amazing. She shakes her head in disgust. Of course, even at his worst, he still looks the best.

"Please don't leave," He begs softly, his brown eyes pleading. He is ready to get down on his knees and latch onto her legs, the way he used to with his father. Before the divorce, before the alcohol, before everything going wrong and his entire world falling apart. "Please."

She bites her lip and lets a grim smile. "I'm sorry Shane," She wants her voice to come out strong and confident, like she knows what she's doing. Instead, it is nothing but a faint whisper. The rain is like a heartbeat in the background. More like a heartbreak. It paints a beat, steady and melancholy. It does not lighten the mood at all. "I have to go. For me. I need something for _me_."

His voice cracks like it did when he was twelve years old, only now, it's painful and it makes him want to cry, not blush. "Please. Stay for me. We can be happy – you and me, together. I – I can change."

She laughs then because it's a typical cliché movie line – "I can change". Of course you can change. You can change your hair, your clothes, your mind, your whole entire self, but none of that will ever make it okay. "It's not you, it's me," She shoots back. Another typical cliché line. It shoots him straight in the heart and he closes his eyes for a moment, trying to ease the pain.

"No, it's me," He insists. His voice is stronger now, louder. It drowns out the drum of rain. "This is all my fault, isn't it Mitchie? It's _always _my fault. Every fucking thing! You don't care anymore, do you? Come _on_, we can make this work! If we try! But you never try anymore Mitchie, you never do! That's why nothing ever works for you anymore! You don't even make an _effort_ to change _anything_!"

The words are bitter and spiteful but both know it's true. Mitchie blinks back tears and opens her mouth, spitting back scalding words that burn him, "Oh, so now this is _my _fault, is it? I _am _trying, I _am_ Shane, I am! But nothing – no amount of trying or effort or _anything _– is going to make this work for us, Shane! We're not… We're not… meant to be. We just aren't."

This one hits home. He's been speaking since the beginning of destiny and fate and now, maybe everything he's ever believed in is completely bogus. "Mitch, c'mon…"

"No!" She screams, face buried in her hands. "I give _up_, Shane, I give up! I can't do this anymore! I love you, but… I can't, okay, I don't want to deal with this for the rest of my life. I'm sorry, okay? But I need to leave. I have to do this for myself."

He is begging again. "Don't go. Stay. Please," He murmurs, eyes filled with tears that match the raindrops above him. "You don't really love me, do you?" He whispers. The tears have fallen, making their way down the familiar path of his chiseled face. His eyes shine, and she sees the innocent brown eyes beneath the dullness that has settled above his eyes. They really are beautiful. She can still see the puppy dog-eyed five-year old Shane in them. But the image of happiness disappears and is replaced by a broken, hollowed boy.

She doesn't want to see this side of him, this part of his past. The broken family, the ruined life that he's hated to talk about… She hates having to replay such a horrible part of his life right in front of his eyes. But she doesn't want to give up her future to try to fall in love with an old teenage sweetheart. "I did. I do," She tries to insist, but her voice is shaky and untruthful.

"No, you don't," He says matter-of-factly. "Because when you love someone, you don't give up on them."

She stares at him with glistening eyes and bleeding lips. For a moment she believes she can run back into the house and he'll welcome her with open arms. He'll haul her suitcase back into the house and they'll fall asleep happily ever after, together again; nothing to worry about, just a little scuffle. She shakes the childish thought away. Not everyone gets their happy ending the first try. "I'm sorry," She tells him one last time. He looks away. He doesn't want to hear it anymore.

"Bye," He replies finally. Firmly and sternly, marking The End on the storybook. Not that it'll ever hit the Disney bookstore. Much too realistic and dark for five year old princesses who still believe in storybook tales. Who wants to believe that happy endings are a miracle?

She doesn't like the feeling of the words on his lips. She's regretting this, this night, her words, her actions, everything. Did she really want to leave? Or was she going to miss him in the morning? Was she sure she wouldn't just call him as soon as she drives off and ask him to come back and get her? "You want me to leave?"

"You want to leave, go ahead." He spits coldly, his eyes blank, his face blank, his expression unreadable. He is nothing. No one. Nobody. Not without her.

She nods. "Okay then. Good-bye."

"G'bye."

"I – I'll miss you."

He doesn't respond.

She opens the door of her old Camry and hauls the suitcase into the backseat. She walks to the other side and opens the door. She does not want to get in and drive away forever without a backwards glance like she'd imagined before. She glances at him and he's starring coldly at her. "Bye," She whispers again, and this time she swears she spots a tear roll down his cheek.

Finally, she gets into the car, twists the key into the ignition, steps on the gas, and drives away without a backwards glance like she always wanted. But she never expected her heart to hurt so much.


End file.
